A great many of those about me would be imprisoned under any law; in France, as here, they would be regular jailbirds. But I loved them better and better - and still I knew how little was my love for them compared to Christ's. It is easy enough f or a man to be honest and a "Good Christian" and keeper of "the moral law", when he has his own little room, his purse well filled - when he is well shod and well fed. It is far less easy for a man who has to live from day to day, roaming from city to c city, from factory to factory. It is far less easy for someone just out of jail, with nothing to wear but old down-at-the-heels shoes and a shirt in rags. All of a sudden, I understood our Lord's words: "I was in prison . . . and you visited me not." All these men, lazy, outside the law, starving: these failures of all kinds - they were dear to Christ - they were Christ, waiting in prison for someone to lean over Him - and if we were true Christians, we would do them every kindness.